


suddenly, i've become a part of your past

by animlcrosr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, i just love Gabe a lot sorry everyone, meta blabbering kind of, the relationship is really really vague sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animlcrosr/pseuds/animlcrosr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even if life is really hard, the actual dying part, is so not fun.<br/>And I mean it’s not like we usually get to choose who kills us, it usually just happens sometime when we don’t expect it.<br/>(a vaguely study-ish pondering session about the archangel gabriel)</p>
            </blockquote>





	suddenly, i've become a part of your past

**Author's Note:**

> I totally do not know what I am doing I am a reader not a writer but welp.
> 
> title from over my head (cable car) by the fray

Dying is really hard and it wouldn't really be recommended. 

Even if life is really hard, the actual dying part, is so not fun.  
And I mean it’s not like we usually get to choose who kills us, it usually just happens sometime when we don’t expect it.

Sometimes it’s things inside us we can’t control.  
Sometimes you’re a pawn in a big game you’re losing because its bigger than you  
and sometimes its your brother and a knife.

Not any of those ways are worse than the others, if they were to happen instantaneously.  
It’s the build up.  
It’s the fact that you know the last thing you're going to see is this. That this has been your life. That this is all you ever have been and ever will be.  
Sometimes you’re content with the way things happened but really? Thats a fucking lie. No one is ever happy with the things they’ve done; thats why they make erasers on pencils.

It’s the things that you do when you're alive that count. The things people say about you after you're dead don’t matter, because you can’t hear them.  
Those that live their life as machines can never really die. They'll just rust. Rust and rust and eventually rust so much they can't move, red overpowering them until they just stop, and they are nothing.

Those that break away, those that aren't machines anymore-- they alone get to die.  
They get to feel the crushing weight of their own heartbeats and burn brighter than ever as they cease to exist but its _so much more_ than simply stopping life. It’s creating death.  
It’s creating an explosion out of yourself and leaving your remains on the floor and leaving behind people who loved you and your brothers and your family and _ceasing to be there_ in a way that almost everyone you've ever known will never understand

because they're machines.  
Perfect wooden soldiers with orders that can't understand what they're doing no matter who they're following (or fighting) but they also can never stop because its their duty.

It’s a terrible life to be blessed with free will because you have to think, you have to be able to want things, and for someone that's raised not to want anything, it’s really hard. You have to be able to want and take what you want and hide.

Hide what you want because you know _you know_ you’ll never **really** get it. Not if you ask for it. You have to hide in the shadows and wait for someone to call and take you to the place you want to be but you don’t even know where it is and you can’t find it because no one can help you because you can’t tell them and you’re are a liar. And you’re a coward. And you are hiding behind a million veils and a thousand masks and you don't’ even know who you are anymore do you? It’s not like anyone else cares about what you do; you are the only one who knows where you are and where you've been and the things you've seen? only you've seen and the things you believe? you're the only one who believes.  
And.

And theres an off chance, that you might find someone else. Who is not a machine. Who is hiding what he wants and is a coward and has a **duty** because thats how things happen isn't it? Everyone has connections to someone somewhere and you don't know where yours are anymore but someone out there has his, and he will die over and over just like you will (and you've never been happier to have someone weapon in your chest than when it was his have you? Not even when you were dying), to keep his happiness intact, even if it means taking a little when he could have everything. And thats what you do isn't it?

Drown yourself if gluttony and sex until thats who you are even though the things you want most _the thing you've been trying to have forever_ is **real** happiness and you don't EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT IS ANYMORE YOU POOR BASTARD. You've forgotten what you wanted until it came up and slapped you in the fucking face. Because some dumbass kids pulled a party trick and fuck if life isn't ironic.

You act like you can’t understand the attachments meat monkeys make with each other when you've already gotten so attached to them yourself that there's no hope for you anymore.

You can't go back to being a machine even if you know its the only way you'll ever be happy. Because, sometimes, you have to sacrifice ultimate happiness, for what you can get.

And thats why a man who wants a fucking family is strapped in a desperate dream of one thats been broken for years.  
Because being alive means wanting things, and being on Earth means not getting them they way that you want to get them.

A nameless person in front of you isn't even fucking **close** to having a family and love behind you when it matters.

But there are some things we can and cannot have, and want and cannot want.

 

And when your face is open and honest and you’re spitting words out so fast you can hardly breathe _(you don't need to but you have been for a while and that says something, doesn’t it)_ and you're slurring your words and you are a PERSON and YOU _WANT_ THINGS AND YOU CAN'T _FUCKING_ HAVE THEM AND

AND they,  
the tiny fucking insignificant specks on a big fucking marble, have figured this out.  
they know they will _never_ get what they want and they still have accomplished more things than you ever will.

And you have done a fuckton of things my friend.  
You have seen things no one in existence has or will ever seen, remember?

And you look at him, no. You look through him.  
Every person is exactly that--a person. Just one tiny dot out of billions on a tiny dot out of millions and you’ve seen it all. but-  
apparently not.

You can't help but look at him instead of through him because you are powerful I mean  
you are light and indestructible bones and the sound of ice-lightning breaking the sky and waves crashing and the hallelujah chorus being sung by a million brothers all at once, and you've scared off tougher men and you've killed so many for so much _less_ and you could be anywhere you wanted you don't have to listen to them. _You don't have to listen to anyone._

But he is a funeral dirge mixed with the sparkheatlight of a match colored with the darkness of destiny and he is on _fire_ most of the time and it follows him. Death. and suffering. But it’s mixed with the same hatred you have of _rusting_ because, _fuck_ is he angry and you can't help but stare. He is **blinding**.

 

And honestly who is it really hurting if the spot between your shoulder blades isn't as bright as it used to be(is anyone’s anymore?)

The thing is that the things that hurt you will hurt you forever but some people figure out ways to fix it.They find ways to get around pain and sometimes it's a slow self destruction and  
sometimes it's a quick burst of death  
but a lot of the time it's a dance. Just a dance.  
And the things you were screaming inside your head about don't hurt as much when you're screaming into the face of your mirror that you've shattered because the face you see was scaring you and _you don't know what to do you're going to die_ but they know. They know how to handle things without imploding and taking everything down with you and isn't that a flaw your family never figured out but _what can you do?_

You can sing.  
You can find someone you love and run away with them.  
Consequences be damned when you only have so much time and that's what it boils down to. Time. You have had so much time to do anything but for far too fucking long you've been alone and it's really not possible to keep that up. 

 

Repeating actions are a sign of weakness. If you want to run from home you great child, then you will be running forever. You can't even think about staying somewhere, seeing someone more than once and when you do-

Well.

It's really not going to work out.

 

Others shouldn't change you right? Everything in existence has flaws (including you, right _angel?_ ) so letting someone else influence you is just going to put cracks in your veneer right?

Although it doesn't really matter now because, you're _fucking dead_ and that doesn't usually change (unless someone cares enough about you to change it but your family is. Well. Wishing is for idiots who put themselves in harms way for fucking _nothing._ And you're nothing now too aren't you but you know you're still gone forever) so you know. 

It’s not like there’s gonna be light in _your_ fucking eyes anymore

 

(Stranger things have happened.)

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is http://shotagabriel.tumblr.com/ if you are interested in talking to me (or crying with me)


End file.
